I love you.I love you because you are full of words and people who love words.I love you because I always feel at home in you.I love you for the company you offer.I love you because you contain multitudes.I love you because you've got room for everybody.I love you because you are a time capsule, a storehouse and a treasure chest. I love you because you are a mirror and a window.I love you because you are a magnifying glass, a microscope and a telescope.I love you because you contain maps and guidebooks and sign-posts.I love you because you contain prayer and poetry.​I love you because you contain much that is strange and fabulous and yet you remain so familiar.I love you because you are full of questions. I love you because you are full of answers.I love you because you are full of voices. I love you because you are full of listeners. I love you because you harbour surprises, and jokes, and silliness and general foolishness. I love you because bookshops have survived book-burnings and censorship, war and economic upheaval, and​might survive digital technologies too.

​A couple of years ago I wrote a profile of Hone Ma Heke AKA Lewis Stanton in this blog and in my Nelson Mail column. He'd been a controversial figure for so long I was curious to find out more about him. At the time, he was camping with his Horse in Neale Park and so was actually a neighbour.

Clive now camps out on Nelson's main street (minus horse and cart) and has become the subject of renewed controversy during the lead up to the City Council elections. This republished profile is my contribution to the debate.

​City dwellers like me do a lot of our living and working in cafes these days. They are neutral places to conduct business and provide a home away from home that is (in my case at least) far less cluttered and messy. They also have better coffee and magazines and someone else does the cooking and the dishes.

​​I was thinking these thoughts on a brisk Nelson morning at the Red Gallery Cafe as I sat at a little Formica-topped table tucked into a corner next to a gently simmering oil-heater. On my table was my laptop, a celadon-blue plate bearing a perfect cheese scone and a coffee mug of the same delicate blue-green, sitting on a bright red saucer. There was a glazed turquoise jug of flowers on a neighbouring table, a patch of urban sky just visible through the window beside me. On the window ledge there was a pile of magazines and a clutch of colouring pencils jammed into a jar. Colour me happy - in my little cafe with still life.

Donald Trump’s inauguration as King of the United States and Dear Leader of the Free World is planned to coincide with his 70th birthday on the 14th of June next year. The White House, which has been renamed The Trump White House Tower and undergone extensive renovations, will reopen on the same day.

​This announcement today from the press office of U.S. president-elect, Donald Trump ends months of speculation. Trump began construction of a 20-metre-high wall around the White House grounds as soon as a tearful Hilary Clinton conceded defeat in the elections in November. The wall was erected in record-breaking time with Trump defending his use of under-paid and undocumented Mexican labourers. “I’m doing them a favour” he said “how else are they going to learn to build that 2000-mile wall we’ve got planned for the US-Mexico border?”

Ever since the wall went up Washington has been plagued by the din and dust of 24-hour demolition and construction on the 7.3-hectare White House site and the roads have been clogged with cavalcades of Trump trucks and delivery vans. The exact nature of the work going on behind the wall has been shrouded in secrecy. Consequently, the site is under siege by hordes of reporters, supporters, protesters and tourists. Outbreaks of anti—Democrat violence in the area have been blamed on the NRA Hospitality Tent which has been supplying free Trump Vodka to pro-Trump gun lobbyists in the crowd. However, Trump’s Militia, distinguished by their unusual comb-over hair style and gold-braided uniforms claim that all shootings have been “justified” and that the victims were “asking for it”.

​Working from home has much to recommend it but every silver lining has a dark cloud.

It's taken me all day to write this little post because I interrupted myself so often: I took the dog for a walk, went to the airport to farewell a visitor and spent time with a friend I haven’t seen for a while. Oh. And I made endless cups of tea, propped up the collapsing trellis in the garden, flipped through a few magazines, cooked dinner etc etc etc.

The only reason I can indulge in such mucking about is because I work from home. A home office has much to recommend it BUT every silver lining has a dark cloud. Let me walk you through the pros and cons:

NO COMMUTING REQUIREDThis is one of the purely positive aspects of working from home. Regardless of the traffic or the weather, getting to the office may involve only a leisurely one-minute stroll past the wardrobe.

CLOTHING OPTIONALAs you get older this perk becomes slightly less attractive. However, workdays spent in bare feet and pajamas or a sarong has a perennial appeal. It’s comfier and less costly than kitting yourself out in proper office attire.

Always alert to culinary possibility in unlikely places, the dog shimmied under the bed in the starfish position and emerged triumphant wearing a halo of dust-balls and a gumdrop impaled on a fang.

In town, on the day before Christmas, while Nelson glittered with tinsel and thrummed with last-minute shoppers, I overheard a young man ask “What’s the date today?” How I envied him his utter ignorance.

I’m hyper aware of the date because of Christmas, a column deadline, and being stuck in a war zone for another two days.

Let me explain. I’m house-sitting this week for some dear friends who offered me the expansiveness of a much larger living space and sea views in exchange for watering the garden and feeding (and loving) the household cat. This sounded so wonderful that I lept at the idea without properly thinking it through.

It might have been caused by a change in air pressure or hormones, or a freakish rise in serotonin levels but I felt suddenly at one with the universe. There was no separation between me and the rest of world.

THE GREY URBANISTRo Cambridge, is a freelance writer, radio show host, arts worker & columnist reports on the oddities & serendipities of urban life. She roams Nelson city with a tan & white Jack Russell. Pete, her original canine side-kick features in many of these pieces, but died in April 2015.